One Hundred
by vega-de-la-lyre
Summary: 100 drabbles, 100 words each, spanning the entire CCD universe. R&R, please!
1. Chapter 1

A new project, since my exams are finished for the summer and there's only so long one can spend twiddling their thumbs and staring at _Days of Our Lives_. 100 drabbles,100 words each. Prompts taken from a variety of sources. I'm having fun so far. 

_All you recognize is the brilliant Sherwood Smith's; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: Can't Find My Shoes**

"Have I lost my wife?" Vidanric asked to an empty bedroom.

A dishevelled-looking Meliara flung herself out from the closet. "Can't find my shoes," she said. "Shoes. They've all gone missing." She disappeared.

"Ah," Vidanric murmured, leaning over to lace up his boots. "The mysterious palace thief has struck again. Last week it was gloves, this week he's moved onto shoes. I'll alert the guards."

A plumed hat sailed out of the closet and hit Vidanric in the chest. His wife appeared at the tapestry, looking exasperated.

Vidanric pulled Mel into his lap with a low laugh, and kissed her.


	2. Chapter 2

_All you recognize is the brilliant Sherwood Smith's; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: A Pirate's Hat**

His entire world had been reduced to the harsh sounding of his breathing.

_In_. Wheeze.

_Out_. A worrisome gurgling sound coming from his chest.

Alaerec forced himself to focus on his breathing, because he knew what would happen if it stopped, and _life_- he went giddy and dizzy with pain for a too-long moment and, light-headed, he forced himself to open his eyes.

All he could see was the worn planks of the deck soaked with blood (his own, but he'd think about that later), and the morning sunlight on a cloth hat, lying abandoned by a limp grey hand.


	3. Chapter 3

_All you recognize is the brilliant Sherwood Smith's; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: Too Many Books, Not Enough Time**

"Keep up," her roommate- said, heeled slippers clicking briskly down the stone hallway. Oria hurried after the girl- couldn't remember her name, spelt with too many consonants and pronounced in a most bewildering manner- feeling slightly dazed but content to let herself be swept along.

"Here," the girl said- what a curious accent!- and her prettily cat-like face eased into something slightly more friendly. "You look like an academic type. You'll like this."

With a great heave, she pushed open a massive wooden door and led Oria into the library.

"Oh," Oria said, fingers twitching.

"I'll let you get acquainted."


	4. Chapter 4

_All you recognize is the brilliant Sherwood Smith's; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: Guilt By Association**

They sat contentedly under a spreading oak tree, Flauvic threading his fingers through Elestra's hair. The afternoon was heavy and humid, grey sky threatening a certain thunderstorm.

"You know," Flauvic said in a rare moment of softness "I'd understand if you wanted to give it- all this- up. Everyone hates me," he added reflectively, "and I don't want them to pass judgement on you. You take it too hard."

Elestra turned to look into his steady gold eyes, and was silent for a long time. "Never, she said finally. "It's far too much fun to shock them all. Ouch. Tangle."


	5. Chapter 5

_All you recognize is the brilliant Sherwood Smith's; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: Tell Me The Truth**

"Tamara."

She jerked her chin. "No."

"It's a simple question. Answer me."

Her fluttering hands came to a rest on the tabletop. "Perhaps I don't want to answer. Perhaps I don't know the answer. Or perhaps, your grace, I think you'd prefer not to hear my answer." She kept her eyes down, but there was a vindictive smile turning up the corners of her pretty mouth.

He made a quick gesture with his hands, as though he was tempted to shake her. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why does it matter so much?"

"Tamara, tell me if you love me."


	6. Chapter 6

AN- Well, I'm a quarter of the way through writing these, guys. Thanks for the positive response so far; hopefully it'll keep me from slacking!

_All you recognize is the brilliant Sherwood Smith's; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: Fire**

She watched at the window the entire night, thin-lipped and pale. The children had finally fallen asleep, sprawled inelegantly over the blankets and soft mattresses.

Alaraec snored loudly. She turned to look at her oldest child fondly, and when she turned to peer down the dark road again, there was a steady line of mounted soldiers trickling around the corner.

Heart pounding, she ran outside to help Vidanric off his horse. He smelled of smoke, tunic scorched, streak of soot across one pale cheek.

"Hello, Mel," he said hoarsely. "We got them."

She sighed, face tight. "Let's get some sleep."


	7. Chapter 7

_All you recognize is the brilliant Sherwood Smith's; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: It Followed Me Home…**

"Elestra, my girl," Vidanric said carefully, trying his hardest not to smile, "what exactly is that creature?"

Elestra, as wet, muddy, and bedraggled as the animal that sat at her feet, stared defiantly up at her father. "It followed me home. It's not my fault. I assume," she added with a distasteful glance, "that it's a cat, but I don't intend to get close enough to figure it out precisely."

Little Oria toddled in, followed by her mother. Mel stopped short at the sight of her middle child, threw her hands up, and laughed helplessly.

Wide-eyed, Oria ran forward. "Kitty!"


	8. Chapter 8

_All you recognize is the brilliant Sherwood Smith's; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: Passing**

It's such a swift look; if Russav hadn't been watching very closely he wouldn't have seen it at all. She's certainly given everyone the impression that her unadulterated loathing for Shevraeth is eternal, although why exactly that is, no one is quite certain (he is _such_ a gentleman, after all, and he was always on her side- whether she knew it or not, and wasn't he one of the most attractive men in Remalna?).

But the passing glance Meliara shoots at Vidanric, lashes lifting and blue eyes wide and confused, gives away the lie.

Russav leans back and grins.


	9. Chapter 9

_All you recognize is the brilliant Sherwood Smith's; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: Kiss Me Or I'll Kill You**

To the rest of the ballroom, it was plain that Tamara and Savona were fighting. Again. They were speaking quietly, controlled, but their fists were clenched and there was a horrible grimness to their fiercely cheerful faces.

Tamara glared at Savona, dropping the pained smile. "I hate you," she said.

"Stop," he said quietly, contemptuously. "You're making a scene.

She turned away angrily, eyes glittering with tears. "Why can't we behave like everyone else in love?" she whispered softly, voice hitching.

Russav grabbed her and kissed her like it was their last moment together, to the amusement of the onlookers.


	10. Chapter 10

_All you recognize is the brilliant Sherwood Smith's; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world_.

* * *

**Prompt: Model**

"Chin down. Okay, up a bit. Perfect. Now, tilt your head just that much to the left-"

Joakim put the paintbrush down and regarded her sternly. "Oria. Don't you dare laugh."

"Mmmphnot," she mumbled, stifling a giggle.

"We should be done this week," he said, resuming his work. "And I shall achieve fame and fortune and you, my pretty, shall be the darling of the courts."

Oria dropped the pose and stared at him disgustedly. "Please."

"Kajsa, fix her hair. And then you'll have some great affair and run off and forget all your school friends. "

"Never."

"Some day."


	11. Chapter 11

All you recognize is the brilliant Sherwood Smith's; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world.

**Prompt: Warm Sunshine**

She lies drowsily on his chest, lulled into something akin to serenity by the slow rocking of the wide swing. "Russav?" she whispers.

"Mm?" A low bass rumble.

"This is nice, isn't it?"

He laughs softly. "Yes, Tamara, I rather think it is."

She pensively looks over the rolling green lawn lit by the golden afternoon sunlight, thinking of how much easier and more pleasant life would be if she were a different person.

"Pity it couldn't always be like this," he continues wryly.

"Russav, do you hate me?"

He kisses her sweetly scented hair. "Never, Tamara. Never think that."


	12. Chapter 12

_All you recognize is the brilliant Sherwood Smith's; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: Utterly Exhausted**

Meliara sat back on the bed with a weary thump, pulling Oria into her lap. The baby cooed and patted her mother's nose.

Vidanric entered, looking exhausted. He down next to Mel with a sigh and kissed Oria on the head. "You know, Elestra and Alaraec are on the verge of killing each other," he ventured carefully.

Mel leaned her head on his shoulder. "Oh, I know. Far, far too tired to care."

From the next room came a large thump, a long silence, and then an ear-splitting wail.

Mel giggled helplessly and, muffling a moan, Vidanric went to investigate.


	13. Chapter 13

Well, I'm going to be away for a week, guys, sorry to say. I do have 50/100 written so far, so look forward to many more updates when I come back (next Saturday, Friday at earliest).

_All you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: Reflected Smiles**

"Tamara, dear child," her mother said, voice dangerously soft, "please keep from making a spectacle of yourself. You try _so_ hard, and it's dreadfully obvious." She patted her daughter's hand sweetly and swept out.

Her words had gone unnoticed amidst the chatter- by all save one. Russav watched Tamara carefully; she lifted her head gallantly, and her hands shook only slightly, clattering her silverware against her plate.

He rose swiftly and stood behind her. Tamara stared unseeingly at their reflection in the mirror across from the table. Her brilliant smile was as glittering as were the tears in her eyes.


	14. Chapter 14

_All you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: Nightmare**

I was standing before the Court, and they were laughing, leaning over, mouths gaping, jewels swinging, and Bran was on the dais, sorrowful, face ghastly pale, arrow sticking out from his side, saying in an oddly echoing voice "It will last all day," and then I was being dragged up onto a platform under a white sky, a row of blank faceless men before me, holding fiery brands and there was a knife flying towards me but it was planted in Vidanric's chest-

-and he shook me awake as I screamed, and held me in his arms as I sobbed.


	15. Chapter 15

Sorry for the long break! I've been madly busy the past few weeks and we're moving out of our house (EEK) in two days. So, updating is going to be sporadic at best. BUT I have more than half of the hundred written and they will be finished by the end of the summer. Promise. Hopefully. Anyway, I'll finish_writing _them, whether they're all updated. Er. Anyway.

_All you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: Children**

She landed on the straw-strewn floor of the stables with an audible clunk, but sat up grinning as her little pony danced and tossed her head. "Alaraec! I got it right that time!"

He was laughing. "I saw!"

Elestra struggled to her feet and climbed dizzily into the saddle again. "Trying again." She paused a moment, waiting for her head to clear- then rolled.

Alaraec caught her halfway through and they fell to the stable floor hard. "What's that about?" Elestra demanded. "I was doing it right-"

Their father stood in the doorway, holding his horse's bridle and looking bemused. "Hello, children."


	16. Chapter 16

**AN- **INTERNET. I feel like hugging the computer.

_All you recognize is the brilliant Sherwood Smith's; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: What Might Have Been**

Elenet isn't past Vidanric.

She'd hoped she would be- she'd thought herself more mature - but no.

It's painful, frustrating to think of how perfect they could be together - they were the same, _equals_, still waters running deep. Oh, she understands how the little Tlanth countess dazzles him- she's innocent and wholly uncorrupted by society, the complete opposite of what he's known, and Elenet can see the appeal- yet it tears at her all the same.

Elenet can't begrudge true love, which is the worst part of- _everything_, because she sees it in them, and it breaks her heart.


	17. Chapter 17

_All you recognize is the brilliant Sherwood Smith's; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

**Prompt: History**

Branaric twirled his pen in his fingers, intent on doing anything possible to avoid taking up those stupid books again. It wasn't right, he thought decidedly, not at all. All the other children his age were still running wild, doing what they pleased, not stuck up in some stupid hot tower room reading those stupid intimidating histories of people he'd never heard of or known and who certainly didn't matter anymore.

Of course, other children weren't heir to the county of Tlanth.

Bran sighed and leaned back, scowling, and tapped his pen on the table angrily. Still. It wasn't fair.


	18. Chapter 18

AN- Am I a very bad person? I have no excuse for not updating, except I have several excuses: we were away in Quebec, I had to work, I was visiting, I'm brainstorming an original project, I'm in a blind panic about starting a new school in less than two weeks, etc. So sorry. (If you review, I'll be reminded to update more frequently… okay, shutting my mouth.)

_All you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

**Prompt: Revelation**

"Who's watching the girl?" I asked sharply, raising my voice to be heard over the clashes of battle and Debegri roaring somewhere in the distance.

My lieutenant swallowed hard, lowering his sword. "I'm not sure, my lord, that is, I sent Merric over there, but I saw him run by a minute ago…"

I went still with realisation when the hollers of the Tlanthi reached my ears: they were calling for Meliara. I turned and was met by the lady rebel herself running forward, face pale with pain and fever. I caught her hard as she fell, unable to stand.


	19. Chapter 19

_All you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

**Prompt: Nothing Good to Eat at Home**

The morning sunlight momentarily dazzled Meliara when she came into the sitting room, touting a giggly Alaraec. She squinted at the figure silhouetted against the window.

"Russav?"

He moved forward and lifted Alaraec from her arms. "'Morning. Thought I'd come and visit this goon- there's nothing good for breakfast at home."

Mel smiled, biting her lip. "Mmhm."

Savona settled onto the couch, patiently allowing Alaraec to pluck at his lips. He gave her an eloquently embarrassed grin in return. "That is, I thought it'd be better for my general health and safety to clear out for a day or two."


	20. Chapter 20

_All you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

**Prompt: Dark**

The ponies picked their way carefully through the craggy mountains, slipping at every few steps on the slick dead grass. It was nearing the end of fall, so the frigid winds and rain blasted constantly. The pretty blue-eyed blonde lady gave a slight moan, blistered fingers tugging at the reins. One of her companions, a formidable silver-haired man, seized her pony's bridle.

"We need to stop now, I think, my lord," he called.

The man leading them, a black-cloaked man with pale blonde hair, looked at the sky and then nodded. "We don't want to be caught out at dark."


	21. Chapter 21

_All you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

**Prompt: Enemies**

Galdran Merindar slumped over the table, circling the rim of his glass with a gloved finger, sullen and remote, watery blue eyes always watching.

Savona, on edge, caught Vidanric's glance and gave a practised grin. "I'm bored. Danric."

"Russav."

"What might you say to upping the stakes?"

"I believe that I'm quite open to that suggestion."

Galdran slouched in his chair and the attention in the room subtly shifted to him, although the boys kept their charade going. He saw enemies everywhere, and it was best to bluster about and keep his mind on their actions rather than their motives.


	22. Chapter 22

_All you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

**Prompt: Dinner**

Apparently they ate dinner in shifts at the Dryanarya Academy. Youngest first, then the older children, and senior ones last of all, called with an enthusiastically clanging bell at some forsaken hour of the night.

Oria licked her lips, feeling ill and tired, and sat down at the far end of the great dark-wooded table. The meal was already laid out- she picked at her potatoes listlessly, wanting to be with her family more than anything else.

Someone stole her roll from where it lay by her left hand. Oria looked up, startled.

"New blood," Joakim said cheekily. He winked.


	23. Chapter 23

_All you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: Just A Minute**

"Mama!"

"Just a minute, Ranisia," Elestra called back, stacking her papers. She couldn't help but fight back a little triumphant grin; there was a smudge of ink across the bridge of her nose and deep bruise-like shadows under her eyes, but she'd done it, it was _finished_, and she felt (melodramatically, but she _was_ a dramatist, now) like a drowning person breaking the surface at last.

"Ah, I don't think you want to wait to see this, Elestra."

She paused, cocking her head a little warily, and stood. "…Flauvic?"

Helpless laughter drifted down the hall. "Life," Elestra muttered to herself.


	24. Chapter 24

_All you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: Maybe It Wasn't The Best Idea**

"Flauvic, this _wasn't_ one of your more inspired ideas."

Elestra slumped as she stared at the chaos that served for Ranisia's nursery. Paint was smeared on every surface available: the walls, the tables, _life_, the ceiling!- and he was laughing!

"She's quite brilliant when she gets it on the paper, though." Flauvic wrapped an arm around his wife. "Cheer up, Elestra- the family was due for an artist."

At the sound of his voice, Ranisia came out from under a table smiling widely. "Heyopapa. Lookee Neeza did!"

"There's paint in your hair, darling. Let's get you cleaned up first, hmm?"


	25. Chapter 25

_All you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: Stiletto**

Flauvic looked out the coach window meditatively as it carried him (rather jerkily) away from Sles Adran. Home, for the first time since he was a boy. Strange notion, that. Home.

Flauvic pulled out a small stiletto blade from his sleeve and regarded it absently. Didn't need it anymore, away from the Adrani court in innocent Remalna-city, not with his dear uncle dead and defeated and the country taken over by the philanthropical Marquis of Shevraeth. No fun to be had there.

He paused, replacing the knife with deft fingers

_Well_, _perhaps I won't get rid of this _quite_ yet._


	26. Chapter 26

_All you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: Team mates**

"Right, so you go 'round to the left, pick up Deric, and head them off-"

"No, no. That wouldn't work at all." Russav peels a leaf apart idly, leaning on his elbows in the muck of the riverbank. "See, they've got a scout there by the fence, I couldn't get through-"

"Life, there're too many of them..."

Pause. "So, we could make them think-"

"There're more of us. I like where this is going."

"And we do this- how?"

"…My genius has failed me, Danric."

The boys peer through the bushes. Vidanric sighs, and whispers, "All right. Listen up. New plan."


	27. Chapter 27

_All you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: I Don't Believe It**

Jerrol swaggered into the kitchen and dropped a letter into Oria's lap. "Letter from the Countess." Astonished, she started, just missing slicing off her finger with her little knife.

Oria frowned and unfolded the letter, absently telling Jerrol, "Don't you dare touch the apples; your fingernails are filthy."

Jerrol ignored her and bit into a slice, watching her face carefully. As she burst into tears and buried her face in her apron, he quickly pulled the knife out the way.

When she looked up, eyes red, she was smiling. "Life! I don't believe it! Our Mel's going to be Queen!"


	28. Chapter 28

I am so utterly depressed over my mark in physics right now. Ugh. Bad course choice.

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: Giving Up**

"Very well, my lady, if that's how you want it, that's how you'll have it." Savona stepped back, hands wide, defeated, disgusted, and the look in his eyes made Tamara quail. "Since you're so determined to isolate yourself from every person in the city, I'll leave you to your own charming company.'

When he was outside he breathed in deeply and made a gesture like he was tempted to run his fingers through his hair in frustration. He looked up and saw Tamara standing alone by a window, dying afternoon sunlight highlighting the curves of her face in pale gold.


	29. Chapter 29

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: Tame**

Elestra silently settled onto the cushions next to a dozing Flauvic, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. She couldn't help but marvel at his self-possession, his easy leonine grace- how did he _do_ it? She knew what he had been- what he had done- and she wondered against her wishes how deeply his change of heart was rooted.

She moved to stand. At the sound of the rustling silk, Flauvic caught at her fingers and kissed them, eyes still closed. "Stop worrying all the time," he said, sounding more amused than irritated. "You'll give us both headaches."


	30. Chapter 30

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: Which Do You Prefer?**

"Come now, Vidanric, be serious."

"I am! See? Serious."

"We have to make a decision. Now."

"Not yet. There's time enough."

"No, there's really not, _thank_ you, and-"

"All right, all right! I'm thinking. I swear."

"…You're laughing at me."

"Never!"

"Look, if you're going to act like this, we'll just throw the whole thing out the window and start from scratch. Would you prefer that?"

"_Never_."

"Well, then. Focus."

"…Mmm."

"Oh, what now?"

"You'd never forgive me if I said I think you're being utterly irrational about the whole thing, would you?"

"No."

"Just clarifying."

"_Vidanric_. Alaraec or Alaerec?"


	31. Chapter 31

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: Turn Around Slowly**

I licked my lips.

"I'm armed, you know, and I'm perfectly capable of defending myself. Besides, there are guards down that hall; and I can scream quite loudly."

The dark figure standing by my window turned. I nearly dropped my sword in relief. _"Flauvic?"_

I could see now that he was laughing. "Life, I didn't recognize you! What have you done with your hair?" His gorgeous golden hair was now awkwardly cropped off at the jaw line, curling madly. My fingers itched to touch it, push it out of his face, but I simply stared.

He stepped forward, eyes wide.


	32. Chapter 32

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

**Prompt: Whisper**

Meliara wanders barefoot over the warm cobblestones into the garden, drawn by the sound of her mother's music. She can't see the look on Ranisia's face, lit from behind by the sunlight, her hair making a wild gold-and-red aureole.

"Want to try, darling?" The bell-like quality of her voice shaking slightly, she guides Meliara's hands to the strings of the harp, smiling through tears when her daughter's fingers are too little to make a sound.

And Ranisia pulls her daughter to her lap and whispers of dark hours in cutthroat courts as Meliara watches the movement of her lips uncomprehendingly.


	33. Chapter 33

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

"Who's _that_?" 

Joakim stopped to look. "That, half-wit, is Owen. The Dragon's son. Two years ahead of us, and already most rulers this half of the world are trying to wheedle him into service."

Oria watched the retreating figure with interest. Her coachman; she'd no doubt of it. "He's good?"

"He's _brilliant_." Joakim stamped his cold feet on the hard frozen ground. "And he has dozens of girls after him, and he pays _them_ no mind, so you've some work ahead of you," he added caustically.

Owen turned. From across the courtyard Oria could see the blueness of his eyes.

* * *

This is the first drabble in a long arc of them I have planned for Oria's school days and her time afterwards; I'm not going to do them all straight through, but it's just a warning ahead of time. I'm also, by the way, going to leave off putting up the prompts, because by the time I'm through writing and rewriting and re-rewriting these, the prompts have virtually nothing to do with the content of the drabbles, so, anyway, yes. No objections? 

Also, blatant reviewhoring: what's up, guys? I've got a hits counter, I have a list of people on alerts for the story, and most of y'all've never dropped me a line. Yes. Utterly shameless guilting. Anything from "Emma, you're a brilliant writer and I bow down to your wisdom and skill" to "FloVic is hAWttt" to "you're completely incoherent and your writing makes no sense". Really. Okay, I'd prefer the first of the examples, but you get the point. Feedback! I want to know what you guys want! If you like it! If you think I'm completely stunned!

And now that my author's note is several times longer than the actual update….


	34. Chapter 34

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

Vidanric dropped himself onto a smoothly worn piece of driftwood, weariness evident in his every movement. Meliara leaned over him, arms casually around his shoulders. She kissed his cheek. "Forget everything," she said, smiling a little, "just for this evening, Danric. You're allowed to live too, hmm?"

He sighed, and reached up to take her hand. "Trying, Mel, really."

Their quiet moment gazing dreamily at a purple sunset was interrupted by the delighted yells of Alaraec and Elestra. "Papa, there's a boat!" A pause. "Let's go _sailing_!"

Vidanric squinted. "I don't think it's entirely seaworthy."

A beat. "We can try!"

* * *

Thanks, y'all.


	35. Chapter 35

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

Vidanric was at a complete loss. He hadn't counted on the Tlanthi rebels being so persistent, or successful, and he _certainly_ hadn't planned on their Countess walking into the arms of her enemy without so much as a by-your-leave.

A soft noise escaped Meliara. Her face, potentially quite pretty (if it weren't so thin and grimy), was screwed up in pain- but she was still clearly unconscious.

Grimacing, Vidanric carefully led his grey to a smoother stretch of road. The sooner he was with Russav and his parents, the better. It was apparent they needed a new course of action.

* * *

Awwright, more than a hundred reviews! You guys rock. (Any requests?) 


	36. Chapter 36

Word on the street is, you folks want some Mel/Danric fluff. Possibly including the kids. I am nothing if not obliging- but first, another Oria piece.

* * *

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

Oria dropped her books with an angry thud on the table, kicking out the chair and sitting down hard. The _nerve _of that _man_! To say- preposterous! She was dropping the class, no doubt of it, she would never darken his door again-

Owen watched her from his dark corner of the library, pushing aside pages of notes. Arms crossed, face pale with anger, teeth set in fury, Oria made an intriguing picture of indignant beauty.

Joakim and Kajsa hurried into the library to remonstrate with their friend. Owen put his head down and returned to his equations, thoroughly unsettled.


	37. Chapter 37

I know should be writing a speech for English and studying physics and math right now, but shut up, brain. Christmas break is so close I can smell it.

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

Vidanric watched Mel surreptitiously as she clasped the hand of the last guest in line with a few cheerful words. She was smiling, but her eyes were dim, and Vidanric could practically see the dip of her shoulders under her heavy new burdens.

"Anything the matter?" he asked, voice quiet, when they were left alone on the dais.

"I- no." She gave a tight-lipped smile. "It's a lovely night, Vidanric."

"It is," he agreed, and tugged at her arm.

She stared and stumbled after him. "What-?"

"Dance with me," he whispered, grey eyes enigmatic, fiery jewel in his ear glinting.


	38. Chapter 38

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

He keeps talking as he plays with the fingers of his glove. There's that curious mixture of eagerness and frightened reserve in her face, and his heart thuds at the sight of her wide blue eyes. He wonders if it's worth it, for a moment, and he knows that it is, that she is worth everything to him.

Fighting back the dread that he might be horribly wrong, he smiles, although it feels pained. "This might," he says wryly, "be one of the more spectacular of my mistakes," and life, but it's true, isn't?

He pulls off the glove.


	39. Chapter 39

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

They'd expected a calm day. 

The temperamental sea, though, had other plans, and (under orders from concerned wives) several men of the town trekked down to the shore to help bring in the little rowboat that they'd watched steadily approach despite the choppy waves.

The baker, quicker on his feet than the others clambering over the rocks, stopped knee-deep in frothing water at the sight of the blood drenching the rower.

"What's happened?" he shouted over the wind.

"Please-" the man sobbed- "help him-"

They all saw the soldier lying prone in the bottom of the boat. He looked dead.


	40. Chapter 40

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

"Think of it as an opportunity, Oria," Joakim said. "One you're lucky to get."

She scowled and pulled her hood closer around her face. "Oh, believe me, I know. But he _terrifies_ me, and working alone with him for two days straight-"

At the same moment they caught sight of a black-cloaked figure moving through the bare-branched brush skirting the forest.

"How does he _do_ that?" she marvelled, shaking her head. Oria kissed Joakim's cheek, adding, "Anyway, if he kills me, give my love to everyone. Slow _down, _Owen!"

She plunged into the drifted snow after Owen. Joakim turned back.


	41. Chapter 41

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

Hands moving deftly over the page, Joakim watched the pair of them from his shadowed corner- Oria all pale, methodical calmness, Owen raw and dishevelled genius, power sparking wherever he walked. Joakim traced the line of Oria's jaw in charcoal, listening to her voice rising in frustration, smooth veneer cracking momentarily as she stamped her foot -"_No_, you dolt, you'll set us on fire if you phrase it like that." 

Snatching papers from Owen, she bent to write furiously. Joakim glanced up to see Owen smiling faintly at her, lifting a hand to touch her glinting hair, and dropping it.


	42. Chapter 42

Poor, neglected little baby. Sorry, folks. Exams/new term of school/television shows that _eat my soul_ have distracted me. I need steady harassment to update, it seems. HERE WE ARE. More Oria and Owen to follow.

* * *

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

Elestra moved carefully down the dimly lit hallway with a drink for Ranisia, wretched and unable to sleep with one of those miserable childhood illnesses. Low voices came from within her daughter's bedroom; Elestra frowned, because with Flauvic away in Remalna-city on estate business, she'd been the only one up with Ranisia.

She tapped on the frame lightly and swung the tapestry aside. Flauvic was sitting within, still with his boots and cloak on, holding a heavily blanketed Ranisia. She was smiling (a welcome relief from her constant sobbing) as her father spun distractingly bright illusions of flowers and butterflies.


	43. Chapter 43

First of a three-parter.

* * *

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

Owen finally stretched one hand forth tentatively, reaching for a hold on an invisible ward. "Something's not right," he said, shadowed face grim. "It's been…. I don't know, corrupted? I can't…" 

Oria took a careful step forward. Owen turned sharply, one hand still taut with the threads of power- she barely registered him flinging the other hand towards her, and then the air was forced from her lungs with a powerful blow and she was flying backwards through the air and then another crack of pain as she hit the trunk of a massive oak and then it went black-


	44. Chapter 44

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

-When the world slams back to sickening focus, she isn't sure how long she's been out but she can hear Owen murmuring in one ear, can feel his hands sliding around her, propping her up, can feel the warm stickiness at the back of her head- she gasps and his hands still. There's a long moment, and then he gently braces either side of her head. She realizes what he's about to do a second before he starts and she writhes and strangles a scream as the words of power tickle across her skin and her scalp knits itself together- 


	45. Chapter 45

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

They were both breathing hard when the spell was done. Heart pounding in her ears, Oria slumped back against the base of the tree, legs still half in Owen's lap.

They didn't say anything for along while, until Owen dropped his eyes and shook his head. "I'm so sorry."

"What _was_ that?" Oria managed. "I mean-"

"If you'd crossed the boundaries of that ward," Owen said, watching blue moonlit snow, "I wouldn't have been able to save you. It was- I don't know what I did."

"That _wasn'_t white magic."

At last he looked up, face tight with conflict. "No." 


	46. Chapter 46

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

Joakim put down his brushes and looked at her contemplatively. "Aren't you frightened of him?"

Oria ran her fingers through her still-damp hair and closed her eyes briefly, pointedly not thinking about scrubbing at her blood-matted hair at the break of dawn. Lashes fluttering at the chill that ran down her spine, she said, "Honestly, I think I'd be stupid not to be terrified of him."

Expression inscrutable, Joakim's dark face was lit coffee-warm by the lines of weak winter sunlight thrown from weathered glass panes. "Do you trust him?"

And Oria smiled a little. "You know, I do."


	47. Chapter 47

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

The scent of the alcohol clung to the air around Meliara, so thickly Russav could almost taste it on his tongue. His eyebrows drew together and he shut his eyes against Tamara's treachery momentarily, shifting the slight burden in his arms.

His boots made little sound against the stones as he wound his way through the Residence halls to the Countess's rooms. Meliara was wholly undeserving of Tamara's spiteful justice, and it burned him to the core. Times like these, he'd rather give his lady up.

_Oh, Tamara_, he thought ruefully, _it's not her at all. When will you see?_


	48. Chapter 48

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world.

* * *

_

Oria stared into the sparking blaze, thumbing mindlessly through an essay she'd rescued from Joakim. With a sudden sigh of impatience, she tossed it on the fire and raked a hand through her long hair, starting when Owen dropped down beside her. 

"How's Mistress First-In-School doing?"

"I'm miserable, thank you," she said, but she smiled. "When'd you get back from the capital?"

Owen picked up one of her papers and flicked the edges absently, avoiding her eyes. "Just now."

"Owen," she said, and paused at the sharp shake of his head. "Owen, what did she ask of you?"


	49. Chapter 49

_Everything you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

Oria had never seen him so still and contained.

"She's sending me," Owen said carefully," as ambassador to the Adrani court."

Oria stared. "But that's absurd! You're the person least suited to diplomacy I've ever met- have you a death wish?- no training- you're a _mage_, to start with-"

He lifted his eyes finally, and her breath hitched in realisation. "Ah," she said calmly. "She doesn't want you there for diplomacy at all, does she?"

He didn't reply.

"They'll kill you," she said clearly," if they find you out."

Owen smiled bitterly. "Death wish, remember." He kissed her into silence.


	50. Chapter 50

_Everything you recognise is Sherwood Smith's; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

The younger courtiers were all pretending to not be watching the road. The Merindar heiress was an enigma to them; she'd spent most her entire life on her country estate, had inherited unheard-of talent in the arts and magic, and had for several years been in foreign parts apprenticed to an artist-mage school friend of her auntie Oria. 

They'd been waiting for the Merindar colours; they didn't expect to see the lady herself ride up on horseback, hair wild, in a simple gown of billowing scarlet. She dismounted and stripped off her gloves, curious coin-gold eyes wide.

"Hello," Ranisia said.


	51. Chapter 51

_All you recognize is the brilliant Sherwood Smith's; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

They're alone in the study, Joakim and Oria, the room dimly lit with a yellow harvest moon waxing full in a velvet black sky. Joakim's slim dark fingers flick around the rim of a bottle in a characteristic fidget; eyes fixed on the last glowing embers in the fireplace, he waits for Oria to speak

"He told me to forget about him," Oria whispers finally, white-lipped, her eyes wide. "He told me not to look for him again, not to write-"

"_Oria_," Joakim says softly, reaching for her hand in the still darkness of the room. She shakes her head.


	52. Chapter 52

_All you recognize is the brilliant Sherwood Smith's; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

Oria watched Joakim proudly, the painting at her back; he was talking with his hands again, blithering on to a bewildered but cheerful patron of the Imperial Gallery.

The tall, dark young man standing at her side hesitated, then touched her arm. "I beg your pardon," he said- she started- "but, are you the model?"

Her eyes dimmed as she was brought sharply back to the hot, dusty days in the study at school, hours spent with Joakim and Tatiana and Nikol and Kajsa and-

"Yes," she said with a brilliant smile, "it's me," and put Owen out of mind.


	53. Chapter 53

_All you recognize is the brilliant Sherwood Smith's; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

The entire building was humming with noise- delighted laughter and low chatter and the odd gasp, when the plot took a sufficiently shocking turn. Meliara put her head on Vidanric's shoulder, pleased and proud beyond belief. What Elestra had done was sheer brilliance, but the playwright was missing, having fled backstage soon after the curtain rose. 

"You do favour the blunt, don't you?" Murmurs of laughter.

The girl jerked her chin up. "I favour truth over style."

Mel chanced a glance at Flauvic. He was grinning.

Vidanric whispered in Mel's ear, "I think her hair's a bit too red, myself."


	54. Chapter 54

_All you recognize is the brilliant Sherwood Smith's; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

Oria leaned back on her elbows, watching the early morning mist swirl lazily over the quietly burbling canal waters. To her left, Joakim and Tatiana were chatting about the opening of the Imperial gallery; she stayed silent, picking at the grass.

"Your highness?"

The three of them started to hear Oria's title. She squinted up into sunlight at the figure climbing down the bank of the canal towards them. "Why, hello, Rhys," she called, pleased.

"Who's this?" Joakim muttered. Tania shrugged.

"An admirer of yours," Oria told him, standing. "Potential patron, no less," she whispered, "a duke, and eyebleedingly handsome."

* * *

Hey, people. As it's been almost a full year since I began this (meant to do it all over last summer- whew, I'm bad) I figure I might as well do a bit of an update.

I know that a lot of the drabbles are frustrating- writing within the form I've decided on, it's purely bare bones, and as a reader (especially when I start wandering off into my own personal canon you all have NO idea about) I get how it's suckily confusing.

I'm not sure yet if I'm going to write an Owen/Oria fic; it's plotted, and I know what I'd like to do with it, but with my spastic working habits it'd suck to commit to it and be unable to finish for you all. That's still up in the air. Two more weeks of school (exams at the end of next week, which means I will be in a state of abject despondency until then), I'm away mid-July, and then working most of the summer. I've got lots of idea for original short fiction (oh history class, you are an evil influence), which is what I'll probably by playing with. BUT if anything changes I'll be sure to tell you all.

Also: a plea of desperation: I'd love some feedback on an A Little Princess fic I just posted, _by the strings of our hearts_. I'm pretty proud of it.

-Emma


	55. Chapter 55

_All you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

She's her father all over again, they say.

Ranisia Merindar's charisma is undeniable. She has the beauty and charm of her father, the sensitivities of her mother; wholly unaffected and wildly original, people flock to her, an exotic bird- and all the while she is oblivious to the powerful effect she has on them.

The older courtiers watch her worriedly. They remember Flauvic; most of them are rather disinclined to forgive and forget who he was and all he'd done (or tried to do) to them, and they all hope the Renselaeus in her will win out over the Merindar.


	56. Chapter 56

_All you recognise belongs to Sherwood Smith; I'm just dabbling (drabbling?) in her world._

* * *

She's happy enough with him. Really. 

Rhys is marvellous. He's bright- charming- well read- (not even to say, handsome and titled). What of it, if her eyes are that much too bright, her laughter jarringly loud?- if she occasionally finds herself comparing him to an-absent-one-no-longer-named (Rhys's hair is a lighter brown, and miles curlier; his skin is olive-toned where _his_ is nearly unnaturally pale; Rhys's face broad and friendly where _his_ is beautifully sculpted, my, those cheekbones, and more than a touch forbidding)?- if she starts whenever the Adrani court or any ambassador is mentioned?

Oria's happy. She'll swear it.


End file.
